


Sisters

by sansakatara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Sisters, because i know what happens to them, especially jeyne, honestly this made me sad writing this, i have a tender spot for jeyne, i need their reunion, not 100 satisfied with this though, sansa and jeyne are precious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansakatara/pseuds/sansakatara
Summary: “I’d rather another sister.”
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Sisters

'Do you think your lady mother will have another boy?’ Jeyne asked.  
They were in the godswood. It was an ancient place that could not be traced back to any precise date in a maester’s book, which stood in contrast to the castle’s sept. Regarding the sept itself, Sansa enjoyed visiting it. She loved the flickering flames of the candles and singing to the seven faces of god. Her favourite was the Maiden of course, who she’d pictured as being gentler than any queen in a song and as lovely as the first sunrise in the world; but she wasn’t sure if you were really allowed to have favourites when it came to the gods. She also loved the sept because it meant spending time with her mother. Lady Catelyn was a southerner who worshipped different gods to her northerner husband and his people. It had been for her sake that Lord Eddard had commissioned the sept, so she might find the comfort of her gods. Neither of her parents really seemed to be of a mind to enforce either the old gods or new on them. So, Sansa and her siblings had been free to visit the sept as often or as little as they liked, and it was the latter. 11-year-old Robb was the heir who would one day follow his father as Lord of Winterfell, and that meant following his father’s gods. Arya would sometimes visit the sept and had learnt the same prayers, but the smell of incense made her nose itch and she did not like its confined space. Little Bran who’d rather run and climb than sit still was much the same. Therefore, Sansa loved the sept because it meant she got to share something with her mother that she was not obliged to share with her siblings. 

But Sansa was still a Stark, and a Stark could never feel uncomfortable in the godswood. This was their place.  
And besides, it made the perfect place for whenever she and Jeyne just wanted to be alone.  
Sansa twirled a blade of grass through her fingers. The two of them faced each other, sitting with their knees to the side. They had spread their cloaks to protect their dresses from the forest floor. 'I'm not sure,' Sansa told her friend. ‘But I think Mother will want another boy.’ At eight, Sansa knew sons were important for any noble house. She put the blade down. ‘I’d rather another sister, though.’  
Jeyne smirked. ‘You have Arya, though.’  
Sansa almost rolled her eyes at the mention of Arya. She was her sister true, but they could hardly be called close.  
‘Arya might be as well be my brother. She doesn’t act like the lady she’s supposed to be.  
Sansa paused, before continuing.  
‘I’d like a sister who likes the same things I do.’  
And that was the heart of it, really. It was not as though Sansa wished Arya wasn’t her sister or anything. When she thought of her family, Arya was always there. She just wanted someone who would be the kind of sister she found in Jeyne Poole, but this time in blood.

Jeyne shrugged. ‘Anyway, you might get your wish. Your father already has Robb and Bran.’  
And Jon, Sansa thought. But she pushed the traitorous thought away. Sansa loved Jon, but she also loved her lady mother. To think that Lord Eddard could have a potential heir in his bastard would’ve felt a betrayal to her lady mother. Sansa knew it shamed her mother terribly that her husband’s bastard son was raised alongside his true-born siblings when in most other cases the child was cared for elsewhere.  
Sansa shook her head. ‘My Mother will want another son. That’s her duty as my father’s lady wife, to give him many strong sons. It’ll be the same with us, one day.’  
Jeyne giggled. ‘It’s strange to think of it, though.’

Sansa couldn’t disagree. And secretly, it scared her a little. She could not remember Arya being born but she’d remembered Bran’s, young as she was. She had lain in bed, listening to her mother’s screams rip the air. Arya had been in the bed with her, and she was crying. She’d been too little to understand what was going on. Sansa had tried comforting her, telling her it would be all right. But her mother’s screams were so dreadful and she sounded to be in such agony that Sansa feared that her attempts to comfort Arya were a lie; that Lady Catelyn would instead die. But then at the first hint of daybreak, a babe’s cries could be heard. Much later when they had been permitted to visit their mother and meet their new sibling- her and Robb and Arya, their mother showed no signs of the ordeal she’d just been through. Instead, she sat up in the bed, her face glowing as she smiled tenderly at the babe in her arms. When Sansa told her that she’d been scared for her because she’d sounded to be in such horrible pain, Lady Catelyn had kissed her and told her not to fret; she had forgotten all about the pain once Bran had been placed upon her chest. There is no more precious sight in the world than when a mother sees her child for the first time. Be it her first child or her third. When she sees her child, the pain is forgotten. Maybe that was true for her lady mother, but Sansa couldn’t forget.

Sansa smiled. ‘I suppose it is a little. But just think- we’ll be married. To great lords or honourable knights.’  
‘What do you think our weddings will be like?’ Jeyne asked, her eyes shining. ‘Our husbands?”  
‘Well, let’s start with you. You’ll be in the South- ‘  
‘Oh truly?’ Jeyne interrupted, in a delighted voice. Like Sansa she also dreamt of one day travelling to the South, to experience and behold all its wonders and beauties that seemed far beyond their reach behind the walls of Winterfell.  
‘Of course. Your husband will come from a vassal house, and he’ll be one of his House’s many younger sons.’ Jeyne was the daughter of a steward, after all, she could not hope to marry any heir to a great house but a younger brother from a minor one would be permissible. ‘You had travelled south and had met at a tourney. You danced three dances with him that night at the feast, and by the time the night was over he knew his heart was forever yours. The day of your wedding, I help you get ready. The dress you’re wearing is finer than any dress you’ve ever worn, and your husband-to-be has gifted you some jewels to wear. You can’t stop smiling as I help you prepare- you cannot wait to say your vows. Your husband to be is so handsome and brave- you know you’ll be happy as his wife.’  
Jeyne smiled at the future Sansa weaved for her. ‘And what of you, Sansa?'

‘Well, I’ll be in the South too of course. Father promises me to a great lord, who happens to have a vassal house that his intended’s friend marries into when she travels south with her to the tourney to celebrate their upcoming nuptials- ‘and Jeyne’s face splits into a grin. ‘He’ll be tall and handsome, a knight that has won many victories worthy of any song. The day we join our Houses, my entire family is there. Even my grandfather Lord Hoster and his brother Ser Brynden, as well as my aunt Lysa. Even Father’s brother, Uncle Benjen, will have been granted some leave from the Wall. When my husband and I dance together that night, everyone is smiling at the lord and his beloved new lady.’  
‘Especially her friend. Her friend will be happier for her than anyone.’  
Sansa squeezes her friend’s hand. ‘And the bride will treasure knowing her friend is there to celebrate with her.’ The girls smile warmly at each other, and at that moment, Sansa decides not to wish for another sister, even if that sister would be the proper lady that Arya was determined not to be. She would be much older than the baby anyway, and when the baby reached her age, she would be a woman grown- perhaps having left Winterfell already. Jeyne might not have been her actual sister like Arya, but it did not matter. Jeyne was her truest friend and that counted for something, blood or not.


End file.
